Whisper Of The Soulbound

The sun hung low as the trio crossed a crumbling bridge leading into the Vareth Expanse—a dead place where grass refused to grow and echoes carried too far. The road they followed was old, older than the maps themselves. Some called it the Path of Pilgrims. Others, the Road of Broken Promises.

Emelai shivered despite the warmth. "Why does it feel so… hollow here?"

"It was once a thriving trade route," Liaen said. "Until the Great Sundering."

Elira's voice floated in the wind. "Thousands died here. Some say the road still remembers."

Asher remained silent, his hand never far from the hilt of his soulblade.

By midday, they passed the first set of ruins—collapsed stone houses and broken statues of forgotten heroes. One statue had no face, only a crown carved with soulmarks.

"I know this," Emelai whispered. "That symbol… it's from the temple my mother studied."

Asher approached it slowly. "This was a temple city. Long before the monster tides."

A low hum vibrated through the ground.

They turned.

A caravan of cloaked figures was making its way across the expanse, their footsteps too synchronized, their faces hidden behind porcelain masks etched with runes.

Liaen swore softly. "Cultists. Of Shattered Names."

Emelai's heart pounded. "What do we do?"

"Hide," Asher said. "Now."

They ducked behind a fallen archway. Elira cloaked them in spectral mist, dimming their presence. The cult procession passed within feet of them. The lead figure held a black staff that bled shadow.

Words drifted from their ranks like whispers in a dream:

"When the veils fall, the names return. When the soul rends, the vessel awakens."

Emelai's knees buckled, her head swimming with nausea. "What are they—?"

"They're preparing for a soul breach," Elira whispered. "A rift between realms."

Asher's eyes narrowed. "And they're heading to Alsira."

That night, camped far from the broken road, Emelai finally asked the question that burned in her chest.

"Why didn't anyone stop them before?"

Asher sharpened his blade, then looked at her. "We tried. But they don't fight like soldiers. They worm into minds. Systems. Faith. They're everywhere—and nowhere."

Elira floated beside her. "They believe the soul is a prison. That names—our identities—are chains that bind us."

"But… aren't our names who we are?" Emelai asked.

"Yes," Elira said. "And that's what they want to destroy."

Later, as the fire dimmed and the stars emerged, Liaen approached Asher.

"If they're headed for Alsira, we can't keep avoiding battle."

"I know."

"We're not ready."

"I know that too."

Liaen looked at him grimly. "Then why are we still walking instead of warning the capital?"

Asher looked toward the horizon. "Because if we get there too late, the only thing left to save will be ash."

Far behind them, in the ruins of the temple city, a figure emerged from the shadows. Kael, smiling softly, watched their distant campfire.

"So predictable, old friend," he murmured. "And yet… so necessary."

Behind him, a soul-bound beast stirred, wrapped in silver chains, eyes glowing with ancient hunger.